Navigators of Dune

Erasmus had made her believe all those things when her mind was soft and malleable, but now it had solidified from opinion to dogma.

The scientists tolerated her interruptions, because Anna was such a valuable hostage, but they paid little attention to anything she said. Sweet, oblivious Anna didn’t understand her own worth, and Erasmus wanted to ensure that his hold on her delicate mind did not loosen. He appreciated the young woman’s rapt attention to him, even if her devotion verged on obsession. He tolerated it, though. Over the centuries, he had certainly endured enough hatred from humans; he could accept misplaced adoration now.

He continued to address the attentive researchers. “At the Mentat School my sensors and spy-eyes allowed me to continue my observations of humanity, make projections, and test hypotheses. I was hampered by the lack of a physical body, but Gilbertus repeatedly promised he would obtain a vessel to hold my memory core. Somehow, he never managed that.” Erasmus paused. “It was the only way he ever failed me.…”

The Denali scientists took notes on their Tlulaxa datapads. For days now, the cooperative robot had discussed his thoughts and conclusions almost nonstop. He had so much knowledge to dispense, so many discoveries, so much data, that simply organizing everything was a task that stretched their abilities to the limit.

“My experiences are pivotal,” he continued. “I intend to help you find ways not just to defend Venport Holdings, but to annihilate the Butlerians.” He realized that his words might sound boastful, but a thinking machine had no pride. “If only we had more time. It is difficult to distill centuries of experiences into such a compressed time span.”

While he waited for the scientists to catch up with their notes, he accessed the last surveillance images of Gilbertus being led from his imprisonment, forced to kneel down and wait for the swing of the Swordmaster’s blade.…

Near the laboratory table, a preservation tank held the disembodied brain of Administrator Noffe, the first of the new cymeks. Now his detached tank sent signals through the flickering electrafluid, which were converted to words by the speakerpatch. “The facilities of Denali are at your disposal, Erasmus. Our mission is to provide Directeur Venport with the weapons to fight ignorance and strengthen human civilization. Share with us weapons designs from the Synchronized Empire. Help us eradicate the savages.”

“They killed Headmaster Albans,” Anna said, her brow furrowing with concern. “They tried to destroy Erasmus—and me! I don’t know why my brother hasn’t just killed them all.”

“Of course, I will assist you in destroying the Butlerians,” Erasmus said, primarily to soothe Anna, because she could become fixated on a single thought. He had little confidence that Emperor Roderick Corrino could stand up to the fanatics or even to Josef Venport. But the robot intended to assist, because he had his own score to settle, and his own price to demand, when the time was right.

“My greatest desire is to watch the Butlerian leader die, and the more painfully the better. I wish to experience the satisfaction of revenge.” This, too, would be a new sensation, another key detail in his grand quest—and that in itself was exciting.

One of the scientists, a quiet Tlulaxa biological researcher named Danebh, had taken copious notes. He sat back. “I would appreciate data on your biological research, Erasmus. You conducted many dissections back on Corrin, but you also organized intensive genetic data. I understand you even grew a clone of Serena Butler herself?”

“I did, and though the new Serena seemed perfect in every way, she wasn’t nearly as fascinating as the original woman, merely a poor copy. Identical biology does not produce an identical set of experiences and personality.”

As he spoke, his memory core linked into all the facility’s data systems and accessed Dr. Danebh’s background. The Tlulaxa man had conducted innovative work, which the Butlerians branded “unclean,” forcing him to flee his home planet and seek sanctuary with Venport Holdings.

“I can provide all the data you need,” Erasmus said, “as long as the knowledge is used against the Butlerians.”

Administrator Noffe spoke from his preservation canister. “It will be. We all have sufficient reasons to hate those people.”

“Then you can also provide me with guidance,” Erasmus said. “I have never been able to understand the emotion of hatred, and I wish to study it more.”

Anna Corrino looked at him with a suddenly ruthless smile, which he found unsettling.